Die Maschine
by SolarMoonBeauty
Summary: Many of the mercenaries were never informed of the deaths of the Mann Brothers. Only a select few were taken to defend Mann Co. When half of a six-man strike team in Mannworks is taken out of commission, three young, but skilled and very in-the-dark recruits from Teufort are called in to replace them. But unfortunately, Gray Mann isn't alone in his efforts, and the danger is real


**Author's Note: I just HAD to write something for Mann vs. Machine. That trailer gave me goosebumps, especially the music. So, using characters from Dark Contagion, I'm here to give you all a new story! And I'm still working on Dark Contagion; don't worry (if you were worried). I have to make sure it passes my own standards before I give it to you guys. **

**EDIT: For future reference, anything I have to say will be in boldface. It looked like my formatting wasn't carrying over into the actual story. **

-One Week Ago-

"Interesting. Where did you say you were from?" A pair of aged, steely-gray eyes scanned a blueprint, taking in every aspect of the design. It was wonderful. Advanced, complicated…impossible.

"Dachau, Bavaria." The owner of the design was a tall, think young man with shoulder-length blonde hair and ice-cold eyes, dressed in a crisp black suit. "Please call me Ansgar."

"Ansgar. Can you actually build these?"

"I have already built the first, as you can see. I would not have approached you unless I could back up my claims."

"I see it, but does it work?"

"She works very well, and has already exceeded any expectations I had for her. Hers is the most advanced design out of them all."

"I can see that." Gray Mann stared at the chrome-skinned machine seated next to the young man. With a slight jerk, the machine lifted 'her' head. For a few seconds, a barely-audible whirring noise came from the robot's torso. It subsided almost as soon as it had begun, and the machine's movements became fairly fluid and graceful.

"Guten Tag." The machine spoke, a feminine voice with a metallic, hard edge to it. Gray's eyes were drawn immediately to a spot on the robot's 'collarbone', where a luminescent blue glow sat. That was unusual. Machines ran on gasoline…

"What are you using to power these?"

"The others run on Australium. A bit of a stolen good, I have to admit. However, this one…her power source is special. It is an interesting element, I do not know much about it yet, but it works wonders." He smiled slightly. "I could have worked for your brothers, Mr. Mann, but I had better plans...and by that I mean that I had plans. I could have made quite a fortune supplying weapons for a never-ending battle, but I had bigger goals…like you, if I understand correctly. I want to propose a partnership. I have connections, and I can get access to the best materials, the best power sources…anything…and I have not even shown you her abilities yet." He affectionately touched the robot's head. "If you could give me access to your facilities, and a little capital, I can easily create the most unstoppable force you could imagine."

The gynoid turned her head to the side, then the other, examining the room. She spoke again, her mouth movements a little jerky but still managing to correspond with her words. "Searching. Is anyone there?" She had an almost sing-song quality to her voice. It would have sent chills down the spine of a normal man.

Gray pondered this for a few seconds, and then just smirked.

-Present-

"What's the report, Miss Pauling?"

"Well, according to Mr. Bryce, the Medic was the first to go missing. The Demoman and Heavy were critically injured and had to be taken to a hospital nearby. We have no word on their condition."

"Hm. Miss Pauling, how are the recruits doing?"

"Ah…yes, it would seem that in terms of points Katja, Leah and Fiammetta are doing the best of the six…you aren't considering sending them, are you? They're only recruits."

"They're skilled and they're sane. That's more than I can say for some of the Teufort group…" She took another long drag on her cigarette.

"Alright, I'll make the arrangements." The younger woman sighed. Honestly, she'd become a little attached to the girls. They had parents and siblings back home…

She just hoped the girls could handle this.

A mostly-empty train shuffled down the tracks, rocking back and forth erratically as it went. A young woman, dressed in a flame-retardant blue suit, stared through a pair of peculiar goggles at a lighted sign that once said 'You're on your way to Mannworks'. At this point, everything to the left of the word 'your' was dim and occasionally fizzled and sparked. Katja sipped tea beside her, keeping her labcoat wrapped as tightly around her as possible. 'Steve', her dove, was nestled on her shoulder with his feathers all ruffled, effectively turning himself into a feathery cotton ball. The only other noises came from the lady sitting next to her. The Medic herself was perfectly quiet and was trying to take up as little space as possible curled up in a corner of the seat, but every so often there was an errant coo from the restless little dove on her shoulder. Katja opened her eyes just a little, before tugging her labcoat tighter around herself to keep out the chill.

For a fraction of a second, Fiammetta considered lighting a small fire in the cabin, but the rational part of her brain quickly reminded her that it was a bad idea.

"Katja, get some sleep." She had been watching the German's head droop and rise for about an hour now and she knew full well that Katja wasn't about to admit it.

"I can do zhis all day." She murmured into her cup, her eyelids drooping behind her glasses.

"_Signorina ostinato asino."_ Fiametta shook her head and glared at Katja, whose shoulders slumped.

"…Fine...fine…" She moved Steve to the windowsill and shuffled into the corner of the seat and curled up in a ball to keep from getting in anyone else's way. As soon as his owner was settled, Steve fluttered back over, sat on her head and preened her hair.

The little dove had certainly made progress. It wasn't too long ago that he was an orphaned runt of a bird. Katja was certainly good at her job, and made a surprisingly good caretaker.

"So, is Katja officially a bird now?" Leah, the BLU Soldier who'd formed the strangest friendship with the RED Medic, glanced up from a copy of Girl's Adventure Starring Saxton Hale.

"Maybe." Fiammetta shook her head at the German girl next to her.

It had been three hours since they boarded the train, and they'd only learned of their relocation that morning. They were supposed to be talking about their plans and such, but they'd been going over the finer points of American comic books and staring out the window. Katja's opinions were pretty obvious. Everyone was very much aware of her infatuation with the superhero Captain America. The reasons for that weren't clear, but she stood by whatever reasoning she had.

"So, did you guys hear why we're heading this way?"

"_Nein."_ Katja mumbled, stirring a little when Steve pecked her head and started to coo.

"I have no clue how she doesn't burn out if she's always up." Leah started to whisper.

"So stubborn." Fiammetta chuckled, before leaning back against the seat.

The noise in the cabin drifted away to nothing, save for the occasional paper rustle or dove coo. The night sky was cloudy and dreary, looking as if it had either recently stopped raining or was about to start. The girls drifted rather easily to sleep in the quiet cabin, accompanied by the gentle lulling motions of the train.

Atop a building marked with the simple Mann Co. logo, a young man with a sniper rifle zoomed in on the train, inspecting every moving part as if it could be a threat. He grimaced and loaded a bullet into the rifle.

"…Well take a butcher's at this…" He muttered to himself.

**It's only four pages long! Gah, that's really short. Well, I suppose it's good for an introduction. I wanted to start trying to leave cliffhangers for effect, but it honestly drives me crazy not to write more on this. Okay, so, the 'butcher's' line is an actual Sniper line. 'Butcher's hook' is rhyming slang for 'look'. Basically, replacing a word with a phrase that rhymes and usually omitting the rhyming word. (Butcher's hook becomes 'butchers'.) It's funky. I really like the Sniper.**


End file.
